"Too young to worry, Too old to smile"

Not every stare comes from judgment—some come from parents who genuinely want to be more inclusive but don’t know how. And that’s a good place to start. So, if you’re a parent wondering, “How can I make things better?” —here’s where you begin: ✔ Encourage conversations – Talk to your child about different ways people communicate and play. Let them know differences are normal. ✔ Ask, don’t assume – If you see a neurodiverse child at a party or event, ask their parent if there’s anything to know that could make interactions easier. ✔ Normalize accommodations – Does your child’s school have sensory-friendly spaces? Are birthday parties inclusive of different needs? If not, be the parent who advocates for change. ✔ Model kindness – If your child sees you include and embrace differences, they will, too. Inclusivity starts with small, intentional actions. A smile. A simple question. A willingness to learn. If you’re a neurotypical parent who wants to create a more inclusive enviro...

Let’s be honest—many parents avoid what they don’t understand. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re afraid of getting it wrong. You see a neurodiverse child at a birthday party, on the playground, or in class. Your child notices them too but hesitates. They look at you, unsure of what to do. And instead of encouraging engagement, you instinctively pull them away—not out of malice, but because you don’t want to risk saying the wrong thing. But here’s the truth: Avoidance teaches exclusion. If a parent subtly discourages interaction, their child picks up on it. Instead of avoidance, what if we modeled inclusion? 👦🏼 “That’s Sam! He might not talk much, but he loves jumping on the trampoline. Why don’t you ask if he wants to jump with you?” 👧🏽 “Emma gets overwhelmed by loud sounds, so she might cover her ears, but she loves playing tag. Want to ask her to play?” Teaching children that differences are normal starts with us. Inclusion doesn’t need to be perfect—it just ...

Picture this: You’re in a supermarket, and a child is having a full-blown meltdown. They’re screaming, hitting themselves, maybe even knocking things over. The parent looks exhausted, helpless. And then it happens—the judgment. The whispers, the shaking heads, the side-eye glances that say: “That child just needs discipline.” “If that were my kid, I’d handle it differently.” But would you? Because what most people don’t see is the full picture. That child might be experiencing sensory overload—bright lights, loud noises, unfamiliar smells all crashing down at once. That meltdown isn’t a tantrum; it’s a survival response. And that parent? They are doing everything they can. Judgment doesn’t help. Understanding does. Instead of assuming, try a different thought: 🔹 “I wonder what they’re going through.” 🔹 “How can I help make this space more inclusive?” 🔹 “Maybe they don’t need my judgment—just my kindness.” Next time you see a struggling parent, swap judgment for empathy. Yo...

Imagine you’re at a playground. A child next to you is flapping their hands, making sounds, or refusing to play in the "expected" way. You want to understand—but you hesitate. Is it okay to ask? Will it offend the parent? This is a moment many parents of neurotypical children experience. Curiosity is natural, but silence creates distance. As a neurodiverse parent, I’d rather you ask than stare. I’d rather have a conversation than feel isolated in a shared space. A simple, respectful question like: 💬 “Is there a way my child can play with yours that would make them more comfortable?” 💬 “How can I teach my child to be a better friend?” These are the moments that build understanding. These are the questions that turn curiosity into inclusion. The next time you’re unsure whether to ask—take the step. Let’s replace quiet curiosity with open conversations. Have you ever hesitated to ask a question about neurodiversity? What held you back? Let’s talk. #WorldAutismAwarenessD...

“You’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it.” If you’re a parent of a neurodiverse child, you’ve probably heard this before. It’s often said with the best of intentions—sometimes with admiration, sometimes with sympathy. But what it also does, unintentionally, is place a distance between us. Because the truth is, we do what any parent does. We love, nurture, advocate, and make mistakes like everyone else. The difference is, our challenges are often invisible to those who haven’t lived them. They don’t see the sleepless nights after a meltdown, the constant advocating in schools, or the countless times we’ve explained why our child doesn’t fit neatly into societal expectations. So instead of standing in awe from a distance, let’s start a conversation. If you admire a neurodiverse parent, ask how you can support them. If your child is neurotypical, teach them to be a friend, not just a bystander. Admiration is nice. Allyship is better. Have you ever found yourself unsure of how to suppor...

If you are a parent to a neurodiverse child, you’ve probably experienced this: the stares. Some are fleeting, others linger. Some are filled with curiosity, some with judgment, and others with quiet admiration. But on most days, those stares just make us feel... different. For parents of neurotypical children, these moments might be insignificant. But for us, they are a constant reminder of the gap in understanding. So, what are people thinking when they see a child who behaves differently? And more importantly, how can we change the way people respond? What’s Behind the Stares? Not every stare comes from a bad place. People look for different reasons: Empathy and Admiration – Some recognize the challenges of raising a neurodiverse child and think, "I don't know how they do it." Curiosity and Confusion – Others might wonder, "Should I ask about their child’s needs, or would that be intrusive?" Judgment or Misunderstanding – Sadly, some assume behavior...

Eight months ago, I took on a role I never imagined would redefine my life—the primary caregiver to my non-verbal autistic child. The journey has been anything but linear, filled with triumphs, setbacks, and moments of deep introspection. The First Steps: Building a Routine At the outset, my focus was on the fundamentals—helping my child build a structured routine around daily life activities. The initial goals were simple: encourage independent eating, transition out of 24-hour diaper use, and introduce basic dressing skills. Progress was painstakingly slow, but over months of relentless effort, small victories emerged. My child now remains diaper-free throughout the day and independently uses the bathroom. He can eat rice with a spoon, though breaking bread remains a challenge. He has learned to remove his clothes but is still struggling to wear them. Each milestone was a testament to patience, repetition, and consistency. A Deeper Realization: Beyond Physical Routines As I immersed ...

Friends can play a crucial role in helping parents of special needs children, especially when there is also a neurotypical child in the family. In my opinion, here are some practical ways a friend circle can help. I certainly need most of my village to step up and ask. Its ok if you don't know what to do, even i didn't - we will figure it out together! 1. The "Babysitter" Friend – Offering Respite 🌟 Offer to watch the special needs child for a few hours so that the parents can go out or rest. Even just a few hours of quiet can be rejuvenating. 🌟 If they are comfortable, learn about the child’s routines, triggers, and calming techniques so you can be a reliable backup. 🌟 Even coming over to play with the special needs child while the parents take a break at home can be helpful. 2. The "Big Brother/Sister" Friend – Taking the Neurotypical Child Out 🌟 Plan a day out with the neurotypical child—movies, sports, or even a simple park visit—to give them...

  📢 Watch the video first to gain better perspective Someone recently asked me, “Where is your son on the spectrum?” I replied, “Do you want a simple answer (which doesn’t really exist) or a more complicated one (which is a tad more accurate)?” He shrugged and said, “It must be simple, right? On one end, it’s mild, and on the other, it’s severe.” Well, no. #Autism isn’t a straight line from mild to severe—it must always be measured on a multi-dimensional scale. Now, what does that mean? Let me explain. A multi-dimensional scale measures something using multiple factors, not just one. Think of it like rating a restaurant—not just on taste, but also on service, ambiance, cleanliness, and price. Instead of a single score, you get a more complete picture by looking at different aspects together. Autism works the same way—every child has a unique combination of strengths and challenges that can't be captured with a single label. Check out the video below, and if any of t...

As parents of autistic children, we endure the deepest emotional and mental struggles—ones that eventually take a physical toll. The stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are not just phases; they cycle through us repeatedly, sometimes one at a time, sometimes all at once, using us as a punching bag. And yet, the world moves on. Friends drift away, saying, “Let’s give them space to figure things out,” or assuming, “They’re just too busy.” At work, exhaustion is mistaken for a lack of commitment. At home, life with your partner becomes a series of routines—predictable, necessary, but often mechanical—built around stability and survival. In all this, you are alone. Someone once told me that as you climb the corporate ladder, things get lonelier at the top. Well, try being a parent to a special needs child. You will understand the meaning of alone long before it becomes corporate jargon. Your world shifts. Special schools, psychologists, psychiatris...

Neuroinclusion is essential because it recognizes that every mind, regardless of its wiring, has value. It’s not just about fairness or kindness—it’s about progress, innovation, and the fundamental right of every human to participate fully in society. When we design workplaces, schools, and communities that exclude neurodivergent individuals, we are not just limiting them—we are limiting all of us. Why isn’t Neuroinclusion the default? Because society is built for efficiency, not diversity. Our systems—education, employment, social structures—were designed around a narrow definition of "normal." This isn’t necessarily malicious, but it is deeply ingrained. We prioritize conformity over individuality because it's easier. And what’s “easier” often becomes the status quo. But easier doesn’t mean better. In fact, it often means losing out on the full spectrum of human potential. How can we progress without including every kind of mind? We can’t—not in any meaningful way. ...

We usually spend Sundays with my parents, enjoying lunch and some family time together. Yesterday was no different. We packed our Sunday basket early and set off on a warm winter morning. The day was filled with laughter, playful moments, and jokes. By the time dinner ended, everyone was exhausted. The drive home was quiet, and no one spoke for a while. Then Anvit, my 7-year-old neurotypical son, broke the silence from the front seat beside me. Anvit: “What does ‘psycho’ mean?” Me: “It refers to the working of the mind, like in the words ‘psychologist’ or ‘psychotherapist.’” Anvit: “Oh, okay. Then who is a neurologist?” Me: “A neurologist is someone who studies how nerves work.” I paused briefly, considering how best to explain this to a 7-year-old, and continued: “Think of ‘neuro’ like the wires running in a car. For everything to work properly, there are wires connecting parts of the car to the central control unit. Now imagine ‘psycho’ as the control unit itself, deciding what...

Every parent dreams of raising a child who will grow into an independent adult. For most, this journey is filled with milestones—first words, first steps, first day of school. For me, as a parent of an autistic child who is non-verbal, independence looks a little different. It isn’t about memorizing alphabets or reciting nursery rhymes. It’s about teaching him how to ask for water when he’s thirsty , how to tell me when he’s in pain , how to chew his food properly so he doesn’t struggle with textures , and how to navigate the world in a way that is meaningful to him . This is not about “fixing” him. This is about understanding him . Moving Beyond Traditional Interventions There is no single therapy, program, or intervention that works like a magic spell. What works for one autistic child might not work for another. My child doesn’t fit into neat little checkboxes of what “should” work. That’s why I am looking for an integrated approach—one that acknowledges his unique needs, streng...

If Avu could speak his mind, I am guessing some of the below would be his words... Hi there, I’m seven, and I’m autistic. Some call me non-verbal, but trust me, my brain is anything but quiet. Words don’t come out of my mouth the way they do for you, but in my head, they’re a symphony—sometimes a rock concert, sometimes jazz, and often just pure chaos. As we step into 2025, I hear everyone buzzing about resolutions. Neurotypical folks have this tradition of promising to become "new" versions of themselves every January 1st. Honestly, that sounds exhausting. Me? I’ll stay delightfully me. But if you’re curious, here’s what I’m planning for 2025, straight from my mind to yours: 👉 Master the Art of Eyebrow Sarcasm - Did you know you can say a lot with just your eyebrows? Watch out, world. This year, I’m fine-tuning my eyebrow game. It’s my way of saying, “I see you, I understand you, and also, you’re being ridiculous.” 👉 Communicate Through My Favourite Things - You m...